And I love you
by Eowyn3
Summary: H/D fluffy goodness. SLASH WARNING!!!! Slash slashity slash. Probably shouldn't be PG, but better to be safe than sorry. *complete*


Draco Malfoy glared into the mirror. As always, he was the last to leave the Slytherin locker room. He would never admit it, but he liked that moment of quiet before the game. Once, their new Chaser had interrupted him. Had actually had the gall to ask if he, Draco, was coming. He, Draco, had hexed the idiot into next week. Smiling at the memory, a slow cold, half-smirk crossed over his face. Not a true smile or so people told him, but it served its purpose, and besides, no one bothered him now. Throwing one last glance at his reflection, resplendent in green Quidditch robes, he stalked out of the locker room and onto the pitch.  
  
He especially hated these Gryffindor matches. The whole sodding school turned out in scarlet and gold, as if to dare the Slytherins to even try. Automatically, he glanced upward and left, to where the concentrated block of green and silver that was the Slytherins sat. They really did look an intimidating lot, he thought happily.  
  
"Draco?" Pansy Parkinson looked at him impatiently. "Can we start yet?"  
  
Feeling irritated, after all, he was the team captain, he stared down his nose at her.  
  
"You know, Pansy, you really shouldn't wear your hair tied back like that. It makes your head look fat." Smirking, he kicked off, followed by his six teammates. On the other side of the pitch, he saw the Gryffindors rise as well. One of them shot higher than the rest, in a blur of crimson, sunlight glinting off his glasses. Draco's upper lip curled into a sneer.  
  
"Potter."  
  
He shot upwards too, ignoring Weasley's insipid commentary. He flew higher, until he was banging knees with Harry.  
  
"Come off it Malfoy" he snapped, green eyes flashing behind his glasses. "Find the Snitch yourself for once!"  
  
Harry sped away, looping the other players with such effortless ease that Draco had to stop, and admire his skill. While he had recently received a Firebolt for his seventeenth birthday, it had still not helped him beat Harry. And Draco was coming to the slow realization that it probably never would. Harry was just too good, and as much as he hated Potter, the Quidditch player in Draco had to appreciate the graceful skill that was Harry as Gryffindor Seeker. Suddenly, he saw Harry drop, plummeting to the ground at amazing speed. Draco quickly followed, heart sinking. Dives were Potter's specialty. Damn Potter, he thought as they spiraled downward, hair and robes whipping in the wind. Damn Potter and his inborn Quidditch talent, he thought as Harry reached out a hand to grasp the Snitch tightly. He grinned at Draco, then rose triumphantly into the sky, as cheers erupted from the crowd. Damn Potter and his dark green eyes, and his wind-tousled hair, and that stupid grin that made it look like he was smiling only for you...  
  
"Gah!" Draco shook his head violently, and landed with his other teammates.  
  
"Draco, what's the matter?" Graham Pritchard, one of the Chasers asked.  
  
"You look odd" added Millicent Bulstrode, their Keeper.  
  
"Fine thanks" Draco's voice cracked. "Just hacked off about yet another loss. That was the shortest game I have ever played. Ever. Yes, in fact, I don't want to see any of you. You're all losers. Now please get out of my sight before I transfigure you all into Fudge Flies and feed you to Longbottom's toad." He glared menacingly at them, daring them to ask any more questions. The Slytherins, having much experience of Draco's rages after-having-been-beaten-yet-again-by-Potter, walked away silently, throwing dark, sullen glances at one another.  
  
Draco heaved a sigh of relief, leaning on his broom. Where had that come from? He hated Harry. Violently disliked him, even. Just because the first thought in his mind when he woke up was what could he do to Potter today? And maybe he spent an unusual amount of time watching Harry practice Quidditch, but he was studying his flying skills. How was he supposed to beat Potter, if he didn't study his flying? And, all right, Draco supposed, in order to be extremely fair, Potter did have something of the sharp cheekbones, and his dark hair was a very nice contrast to his creamy skin and-  
  
"Oh. Bollocks." Draco sat down heavily.  
  
Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room. They were well into hour five of their celebratory, Harry-kicked-Malfoy's-cheating-ass-in-Quidditch-again party, when a voice like steel rang through the room.  
  
"Never have I seen such an inappropriate display!" Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor house had entered the common room. Her eyes raked the house, from the empty Butterbeer bottles littering the floor, to Dean Thomas' banners of "Malfoy is a ferret" and "Draco Malfoy, the Dementor" complete with illustrations. Smothering a laugh, she pursed her lips.  
  
"Clean all this up. Immediately. I don't want to know where you got the Butterbeer. Don't try to slink away Mr. Weasley. Yes, Mr. Finnegan, I realize the banners were not all Dean's idea. Will someone please wake up Miss Brown?" Professor McGonagall sighed. "I do not expect to hear any more noise from Gryffindor Tower tonight. If I do, I shall be forced to take points. Good night." She left through the portrait hole, muttering to herself.  
  
Ron turned to Harry in shocked silence.  
  
"We'd best get to bed then, Harry" he said, and edged towards the stairs.  
  
"No you don't Ron Weasley!" Hermione had spotted them.  
  
"Oh come off it Hermione! Harry's tired!"  
  
"No, really Ron, its-"  
  
"You weren't playing today Ron, why are you going to bed?!"  
  
"Hermione, it's okay, we'll stay-"  
  
"I was COMMENTATING! That IS a lot of work I'll have to know!!"  
  
"DON'T YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME RON WEASLEY!"  
  
Harry sighed. There was really no talking to them when Ron and Hermione entered 'blazing row' phase. You just had to wait it out. Everyone else had already edged away from them, and Harry noticed that the common room had pretty much emptied. Slowly, he climbed the stairs to the boy's dormitory. Seamus and Dean were talking from their respective beds, as usual; and Neville's snores filled the small circular room. Harry grinned, changing into his oversize Chudley Cannons shirt and scarlet flannel Gryffindor bottoms. He emerged from his bed hangings to put away his broom.  
  
"Harry, has anyone ever told you that bright orange and burgundy clash violently?" Seamus asked innocently.  
  
Harry grinned sheepishly, looking down at his clothes.  
  
"I didn't think it mattered Seamus, they're just pajamas."  
  
Dean Thomas sighed gustily from his bunk.  
  
"It always matters Harry. Honestly."  
  
"Well, do you think you could pardon me just this once? As it's my first offense?" Suddenly struck by the silliness of the conversation, Harry, Dean and Seamus all began to laugh.  
  
"'Night Harry" called Seamus as Harry crawled into his bed.  
  
"Cheers, Seamus" Harry took off his glasses, glad for a moment of quiet at last. He privately thought back to the Quidditch game. How the sunlight had given Malfoy's translucent skin a beautiful kind of glow. Not that Malfoy wasn't always beautiful, but in the sun he was luminescent. Harry grinned inwardly, seeing Malfoy dive after him, silvery-blond hair flying in the wind, face made sharper by concentration. He imagined tracing all the sharp contours of that pale, glowing face with his fingers. Draco's silver eyes, alive with lust, danced in front of his face.  
  
Ron burst into the dormitory. His hair was standing on end, and he looked a bit out of breath.  
  
"Made up with Hermione, have you?" Harry asked, sitting up quickly.  
  
"Oops, sorry Harry. You weren't sleeping were you?"  
  
"Nah. 'Night Ron" Harry grinned and rolled over, so Ron couldn't see his flushed cheeks.  
  
The next morning, Draco spent all of breakfast in the Great Hall determinedly not looking over at the Gryffindor table. He had never realized how much time he spent looking over at Potter and his stupid friends, until he tried to stop. It was very unfair really. How was he supposed to keep from looking at Harry, when there Harry sat, just tables away, looking infinitely adorable as his glasses slid down his nose. He really did have the most beautiful hands, Draco thought as Harry fixed his glasses. Whether it was catching the Snitch or taking Potions notes, Harry's hands were always....well, there wasn't really a word for it. He bites his nails, part of him thought, that would drive you mad. Well, it is rather endearing, but- enough!! I am supposed to HATE Potter. With a fiery passion. Draco smiled inwardly at the thought of 'Harry' and 'fiery passion' in the same sentence.  
  
"Right! This cannot continue!"  
  
Draco started as a voice shattered his daydream. He looked around wildly; surely he hadn't been that obvious.  
  
"Draco, your, er, your elbow's in the butter" Pansy looked at him apprehensively.  
  
"And I've been asking for it for a full five minutes Malfoy" Millicent Bulstrode was looking at him rather unpleasantly.  
  
"So sorry to prevent you from eating yourself into an early grave, Bulstrode. Hope you can forgive me" Draco got up and strode out of the Great Hall. He sat on the staircase, waiting for breakfast to end. He didn't have to wait long. When he spotted a familiar face in the slew of Gryffindors that exited the Hall, he got up.  
  
"Potter!"  
  
Harry whirled, confusion in his green eyes. They hardened when he saw Draco, who firmly stomped on the thought that Harry was so cute when he was confused.  
  
"Wizard's duel. You and me" he continued, while wondering if he were insane.  
  
"I'm his second" Weasley shouted back, the corridor was empty now. Draco shook his head.  
  
"No seconds. Just me and Potter"  
  
Harry had to quickly stifle the smile that threatened to appear when Draco had uttered these words. You'll get yourself killed if you think that way. This isn't a lover's tryst; it's a duel he told himself firmly. Walking down the hall with Ron and Hermione, he wondered for the hundredth time how the person you hated most in the world, could suddenly become your reason for getting up in the morning.  
  
The day passed in a haze of note-taking and gazing into tea leaves. Harry's hands shook as they measured out Potions ingredients. Draco looked at him. He didn't dare smile, not surrounded by Slytherins, but he wished there was something he could do. Harry looked so nervous. He wished he could tell him not to be worried. He was hardly going to die tonight, after all. He should be the one to be nervous, not Potter; after all, this was him laying his proverbial social life on the line.  
  
"Draco, how many porcupine quills were we supposed to add?" Goyle interrupted Draco's unhappy mulling. He buried his face in his hands, and gave a muffled scream of frustration. Who decided Potter could be so damned cute anyways?  
  
That night, Harry slipped out of his bed, fully dressed, and under the Invisibility Cloak. He came to an impasse in the corridors, and paused.  
  
"Blast. Was it right or left?" he muttered under his breath. Stuck for a moment, he smacked himself in the forehead. Fishing in his robes, he pulled out the Marauder's Map, and scanned it. There, on the third floor a tiny ink dot labeled "Draco Malfoy" paced an empty classroom. Harry folded up the Map, and hurried up the flight of stairs to his right. Pulling out his wand, he entered the class and threw off his Cloak, standing right in front of Draco. He started.  
  
"Potter" the ghost of a smile flickered across his face, then he seemed to think better of it. "I knew it! I knew you had an Invisibility Cloak! You made me think I was mad, that day at the Shrieking Shack."  
  
"If it makes you feel better, Malfoy, I still think you're mad."  
  
"Thanks ever so much, Potter" he replied sourly.  
  
Draco still had not gotten up. He half-sat, lounging against one of the desks in his black robes. His green and silver tie was unknotted around his neck, and the first few buttons of his white shirt were undone. Harry couldn't help but notice the sharp angles of his bare collarbone. Mentally he screamed at himself to stop thinking like that. He couldn't duel Malfoy if he was thinking about his collarbone, about sliding his slim fingers along his chest, until-  
  
"Potter?" Malfoy was looking at him oddly now.  
  
"Shouldn't we start the duel now? I mean, what if Filch comes, we could be expelled. And where's your wand anyways? This is the wand kind of dueling isn't it? I mean, I didn't think you knew anything about Muggle dueling. And besides, we'd have to hit each other, and I wouldn't think you'd like doing anything that could mess up your face, and-"  
  
"Potter! Stop doing an impression of Creevey on Fizzing Whizbees and, just- shut up!"  
  
Harry fell silent. There was a hungry, sad kind of fire in his green eyes. Draco's stomach twisted. He had to do it now. Trying to remember the look in Potter's eyes just now, Draco clenched his eyes. Somehow, the words were not coming.  
  
"See, Potter, the thing is..." he looked despairingly at Harry. Harry who looked so infinitely patient and sweet right now. Harry who was standing right across from him. "Oh bugger" Draco leaned forward, gently slid his hands on either side of Harry's face, and kissed him. Harry went stiff for a second, then pushed him away.  
  
"Dra-Malfoy, no." Harry's eyes were on fire, and he sounded as though he had just run a marathon. "This isn't fair. I don't know how you found out, but this is beyond tormenting me. It's hitting below the belt."  
  
"Potter, what are you on about?" Draco's silver eyes were dark with passion, and he had two spots of color high on his cheeks. He noted that his hands were shaking.  
  
"You. I like you. I don't know how you found out, but I think it's really low to pull something like this-"  
  
This time Draco grabbed him by his arms, just above his elbows, and slid his mouth over Harry's. This time, Harry, instead of giving under the kiss, kissed back. And Draco was on fire. Harry's mouth was wonderfully soft and warm, and tasted faintly of pumpkin juice. They broke apart, Harry was panting, and his lips looked faintly swollen.  
  
"You." Draco breathed. "You are a stupid prat, you know that?"  
  
Harry was grinning like an idiot.  
  
"I'm not sure I got the idea, would you care to enlighten me?"  
  
Draco laughed, and suddenly they were kissing again. And Harry's hands were in Draco's hair, silver-blond, too fine to tangle and impossibly soft. One- handed, he threw the Invisibility Cloak over the two of them; it really wouldn't do for Filch to be alerted to their presence. And after all, they weren't exactly being silent.  
  
Harry's school days became a vague kind of impression. He lived for the nights now. Under Harry's Cloak, they had visited most of the school. Mostly, however, they would sit on the roof, and talk. Or snog, Harry amended. And really, it was quite obvious which his favorite of the two was. The most frustrating part, though, was that they couldn't talk in classes. Potions became a frustrating class of stolen glances and fleeting grins. Harry reflected as he sat on the roof, leaning up against Draco. He would have to tell him to cut down on the leering. Ron was getting suspicious. Smiling, he half turned his head, and tucked it neatly under Draco's chin.  
  
"How long have you known for?" Draco asked, sliding his arms around Harry's chest.  
  
"Known what?"  
  
"That you were, you know"  
  
"What, gay? You can say it, you know. Ages and ages."  
  
"I know I can say it, I'm just choosing my time. Ages?" Draco tightened his arms around Harry. "Was there, I mean, has there been anyone else?"  
  
"Well, I used to have a terrible crush on Ron."  
  
"WHAT?!" Draco jumped, and Harry immediately spun, and clamped a hand over his mouth, shaking with silent laughter.  
  
"I'm kidding, idiot" he removed his hand, and kissed Draco firmly on the mouth. Harry then settled beside him, head on his shoulder.  
  
"I hope you know I am never speaking to you ever again" Draco said in a petulant voice. "Not if I live to be one hundred."  
  
"Let's see how long you can keep that up" said Harry, who grinned wickedly, then proceeded to do something very interesting to Draco's neck.  
  
"Oh help. That's hardly fair. Right Harry Potter, I'll give you what for"  
  
Harry momentarily disappeared with a protesting squeak. When Draco moved, Harry was panting, face flushed.  
  
"That" he breathed deeply. "That, Draco Malfoy, was entirely uncalled for."  
  
Now it was Draco's turn to grin wickedly. Which he did. Harry was now lying on his back, and Draco tentatively rested his head on his stomach, looking up at the stars.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
"Potter?"  
  
"Do you ever wonder if this is all some dream?"  
  
Draco was silent for awhile. Harry had hit upon his deepest fear. He had never been so happy in his entire life as he had been these past two weeks. No one had made him as happy as Harry. Ever. It was just that which made him wake in the middle of the night, sweating at dreams where he was alone, and Harry was not with him. Somehow, however, when he tried to convey his feelings into words, it just didn't work. He wished he could tell him, that if he were Harry's- well, if he..if he and Harry were anything, Harry would never be sad again. That if anyone so much as looked at him cross-eyed, Draco would curse them into a thousand slimy pieces. But the words wouldn't come.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
"Yes" he replied. Draco reached up and pinched Harry's arm. Hard.  
  
"Ouch!! What was that for?"  
  
"It's not a dream Potter"  
  
"Sometimes I wonder. How you really feel about me, I mean. Because you've never really, but when we kiss-"  
  
Draco sighed, and rolled over, resting his chin on Harry's ribs.  
  
"Hey! That tickles!"  
  
"Harry, no offense, but everything I love, has never loved me back. You've met my parents, Crabbe and Goyle. I'm just-"  
  
"Everyone I've ever loved has died. Or been taken from me" Harry replied in a cold voice, thinking of his parents and Sirius.  
  
"Harry, that's not the same, what about Ron and Hermione?"  
  
Harry got up abruptly, making Draco bite his tongue.  
  
"Ouch. I'm bleeding. Harry, where are you going?"  
  
"I don't know. I just need to think" Harry slipped back inside the castle, leaving Draco to wonder how he had managed to mess up the best thing that had ever happened to him.  
  
Harry walked quickly down the corridor, towards the Great Hall. Since he had left Draco on the roof yesterday, he hadn't seen him once. Of course, that could be because he had faked an upset stomach so he wouldn't have to go to Potions, but still. The shrill call of an owl rang down the hall, and Harry looked up. He and Draco had, in the previous weeks, made a habit of sending each other notes about their day, seeing as how they couldn't talk to one another. But he certainly hadn't expected to get one today. Automatically, he reached up, and untied the note from Hedwig. It was rather thick, and tied with black, silk cord. Harry untied it.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
It rained today in Potions, and I love you. Neville almost melted his twelfth cauldron and I love you. Professor Snape almost flayed me alive for not having done the homework and I love you. A fight broke out in History of Magic between Crabbe and Pansy and I love you.  
  
And so it went, on for three pages, front and back in loopy silver handwriting.  
  
"Get the idea now, you silly prat? Or did you need me to get down on my knees and recite sonnets?"  
  
Harry turned, and quickly checking that the hallway was empty, embraced him fiercely. Draco choked.  
  
"Air! AIR! Potter, get off!!" he laughed, and brushed his lips against Harry's cheek.  
  
"Now about that 'on your knees' part" Harry began, as they headed towards the Entrance Hall. Draco raised his eyebrows and winked lustily.  
  
"I'll meet you in the North Tower" he said, and ducked into the Great Hall. 


End file.
